


Reluctance

by CuriosityRedux



Series: Dragon Drabbles Berk [54]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Healer Ruffnut, Hiccstrid - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-30 04:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16757368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriosityRedux/pseuds/CuriosityRedux
Summary: Ruff gets particular amusement out of tormenting Astrid.





	Reluctance

**Reluctance**

**-**

“Are we gonna talk about this?” Ruff stretched her arms out before lacing her fingers behind her head. Her boots kicked at clods of dirt and loose rocks that clattered from the edge of the cliffside in dusty chucks. 

“Nuh-uh,” Astrid answered with a decisive shake of her head. She hadn’t stopped chewing at her nails since they’d camped out behind Gothi’s house. It was an awful habit, one she’d given up on breaking after realizing that between a life of wielding weapons and holding reins, she’d never have pretty hands. Every now and then, she’d go a few months without nibbling at her fingertips. But then some stressor would pop up and she’d be right back at it. 

With everything on her mind, Astrid was sure she’d bite down to the cuticles before nightfall. 

Ruffnut wasn’t supposed to be there. She knew that her friend had been studying under Gothi for a while now, but since her wedding, Ruff had been spending more time at home and less up on the mountain. So when Astrid had slipped away from a council meeting as discreetly as possible to puke her guts out in the grass beside the Great Hall, she hadn’t expected Gothi to be walking by. She hadn’t expected the strength in the old biddy’s arms as she yanked the chief’s wife towards her house. And she hadn’t expected to be half thrown onto a bed for an examination by one of the worst secret keepers in the village.

Maybe it was because the elder was lurking nearby, but Ruffnut was extremely professional throughout the entire inspection. Clothes were removed, body parts were groped. Extremely personal questions were asked, and mortified, stammered answers were given. But through it all, the healer in training kept an air of respectable stoicism. There were no waggling eyebrows, no snickering, none of the incredibly pleasant aspects of her personality that Astrid was familiar with. 

That didn’t stop her once the exam was over, though. 

“I know I’ve seen ‘em before,” Ruff commented casually, “Laugardagur and all. But getting knocked up does nice stuff to your—”

“ _Quiet_ ,” she hissed, the daggers in her eyes foreshadowing the more dangerous threats to ensue. 

“About the boobs or the—”

“ _Both_.”

Ruff made a little  _hmm_  and then fell quiet, leaving Astrid to chew off her fingernails in peace. 

 _Moon tea’s effective_ , she remembered her mother mentioning with no small implications after Astrid turned sixteen.  _It’s good for keeping yer cycle… regulated._

And it had been. For about seven years, moon tea had allowed her and Hiccup to get away with much more than they should have without any  _unexpected_ surprises. But then they got married. Hiccup became chief. Life got hectic, and the occasional cup of moon tea would slip her mind. She’d suddenly pause in changing the bed sheets, wondering to herself if she’d had some the night before. She’d run out of ingredients and forget to replenish her cabinets. 

If she was honest with herself, it was a shock that they’d made it  _this_ far.

Astrid switched hands, teeth working at a hangnail at the corner of her thumb while the newly trimmed fingers of her other hand wandered curiously over her lower belly. Her denial had only stretched so far— it snapped, and when it did, a rush of feelings accompanied her acceptance of the little life kindling in her womb. 

Terror was a forerunner. She and Hiccup were just barely juggling the day-to-day politics and projects involved in keeping an island running. The idea of managing her responsibilities with an infant screaming at her ear sent dread licking through her veins. That was accompanied by the faint  _weirdness_  of being  _occupied_. Dragons laid eggs, they hatched, and then there were little dragons running everywhere.  _Babies_ , however spent over half a year growing inside their mother. She wasn’t sure if it was the absurdity of picturing herself as a pen in the dragon stables or the idea that there was an impossibly small person under her fingertips that made her head spin.

Oh. No. That was the nausea. Astrid closed her eyes and took deep breaths until the uncomfortable roiling settled. Now that she knew what caused it, she was much more aware of the passing urges to empty her breakfast over the side of the cliff. 

But beneath the fear, the discomfort, the sheer bewilderment, there was a building wave of excitement. A shaky sort of delight that made her picture big green eyes in a heart shaped face. Swaddling blankets spilled over freckled, bronze-dusted forearms. They’d have to clear all of Hiccup’s building stuff out of the nursery. She’d have to subject herself to Ruff’s sewing lessons again. 

And her mother— Gods knew  _she_ ’d spent the past seven years slowly transitioning from  _please Freya no_  to  _any day now, you two._ Her barely concealed hints a few weeks ago had made her and her husband’s stomachs hurt, they laughed so hard. They’d waited until after her parents had left of course, but then they’d exploded into hard-held giggling fits. She’d had tears in her eyes from laughing so much, and he’d pulled her close before murmuring, “I’m glad I get you to myself for a little bit longer.”

And at that thought, Astrid nearly bit through her ring finger. Her stomach lurched, and this time it was completely unrelated to the little Haddock currently residing there.

“I have to tell Hiccup,” she blurted, the realization stabbing her with new anxiety. Her husband spoke about children infrequently— not with any particularly strong feelings— but when he did, it was usually coupled with the idea that they had plenty of time.

Ruff shrugged and dug at a deeply buried rock with the heel of her boot. “If he’s not an idiot, he’ll figure it out eventually.”

“No.” She shook her head, feeling her heart sink. “He doesn’t want kids yet.” Pushing her bangs back, she rested her palm against her forehead. She pictured the shock that would freeze his features, followed by a fear not unlike her own. Would there be a disappointment after that faded? Or a joy?

Or would he escape on Toothless before she had the chance to find out?

“Look.” Ruffnut sat forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Astrid forced herself to move her gaze from the village below to her companion. “Stuff’s changed since Hiccup became chief.”

“I know.” Of course she knew.

Ruff rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t run from stuff anymore.” She scratched at her marriage braids with thinly veiled annoyance. “He’s a grown up now, Astrid. Have a little more faith in him.”

She swallowed and nodded. Leaned back against Gothi’s house and sighed pensively. Beneath them, Berk hustled and bustled with life, and she had the thought that the little lanes and pathways and spaces would be where her child grew up. She could see her house, and that was where she’d spend sleepless nights with a baby at her breast. She would play hide and seek among the pens of the stables, send her little one to the Great Hall with a message for Hiccup. 

And he’d kiss their son or daughter goodnight before crawling into bed next to her.

“You know you don’t get to tell anyone about this,” she reminded Ruffnut. She held onto the images like they could chase away the apprehension. “Pregnant or not, I can still knock you flat on your back.”

Her friend snorted. “If  _you_  didn’t spend so much time on your back, you wouldn’t be  _in_  this situation.”

Astrid muttered an unsavory name under her breath. But she fought a smile. “I’m glad you were here,” she confessed. 

Ruffnut folded her arms over her chest and finally managed to unearth the stone she’d been working at. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”


End file.
